


Drain the Whole Sea

by QuickLikeLight



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Art, Cover Art, Cowboys & Cowgirls, Doctor!Scott, First Kiss, Happy Ending, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mutual Pining, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining!Scott, Sheriff!Stiles, Wild West
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-28 07:28:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5083063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickLikeLight/pseuds/QuickLikeLight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Why are you always gettin’ me caught up in stuff like this, Stiles?" Scott huffed. </p>
<p>"Well," Stiles said, eyebrows furrowed as he tried to gauge just how far down the bottom was, how bad it would hurt if he just let go. "You haven’t told me no yet, that’s all."</p>
<p>"And you’re just gonna push ‘til I do, huh?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drain the Whole Sea

**Author's Note:**

>   
> 
> 
> Art created for this story by [Gwynnia](http://gwynnia.tumblr.com/) for the [Sciles Secret Santa.](http://quicklikelight.tumblr.com/post/135978015831/scilessecretsanta-merry-scilesmas)  
> 
> 
> This was expanded from a tumblr ficlet. It contains instances of period-typical internalized homophobia.

Stiles wiped his face with a soaked bandanna, settling his wide-brimmed hat back on his head. Scott slumped against the fence, breathing hard after the exertion of herding the sheep back into the pen.

"Thanks for your help, Sheriff, Doc McCall." Malia Tate took a long drag off of her hip flask and offered it to him. Stiles waved it away and Scott followed his lead. Miss Tate’s home distilled would blind ya on the best of days.

"Not a problem, Miss Tate. Would hate to see those sheep a’ yours get out again," Stiles nodded, tipping his hat at her. "If they’re all in the pen -"

"There’s twelve." Malia’s voice was soft and sad. "Only twelve made it back. Shit, shoulda sheared ‘em three days ago, but I was hopin’-"

Stiles sighed. "Don’t worry Miss Tate. We’ll find ‘em."

Scott groaned.

 

"Why are you always gettin’ me caught up in stuff like this, Stiles?" Scott huffed, clinging to the side of the rocky ravine. Each of them had a large pack on their shoulders and a rope around their waists anchoring them to the top. After as many ill-conceived excursions as they’d been on since Stiles took over as Sheriff, they’d learned a thing or two about preparing for the wilderness.

There were some things that couldn’t quite be prepared for, though.  Just quietly guarded against. Stiles didn’t watch the muscles under Scott’s shirt roll and shift as he moved down. He didn’t watch sweat bead and fall down his friend’s brow. He didn’t notice Scott not watching, either. He _didn’t_.

"Well," Stiles said, eyebrows furrowed as he tried to gauge just how far down the bottom was, how bad it would hurt if he just let go. "You haven’t told me no yet, that’s all."

"And you’re just gonna push ‘til I do, huh?" Scott grumbled, feet slipping on smooth stone. A handful of pebbles slipped down into the fast-moving stream below.

"Please don’t say the word ‘push’ right now." Above their heads, their horses whinnied and stomped impatient feet. Being so close to the ravine was dangerous for any animal, especially the excruciatingly stupid sheep caught at the bottom. And the possibly even stupider men holding tight to the craggy orange rock.

Stiles breathed a sigh of relief when his toes finally touched the bottom. Next to him, Scott slid to the ground, gasping and puffing. Stiles pulled out his canteen, hoping it was still cool enough to help, and tipped Scott’s head back. He poured the water slowly down his friend’s throat, hoping it might ease the ache in his airways. Scott swallowed and smiled.

"Don’t worry, Sheriff. Not dyin’ on ya today."

Stiles laughed, but it was a choked little sound. He dug an asthma cigarette out of his pocket and lit it with a match. "I gotta remember to stop bringin’ you places where the air’s thin."

"Or maybe you could just stop bringin’ me places where one or the other of us is in danger?" Scott’s grin belied his words, as it often did with Stiles.

"You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if I wasn’t stealin’ you off to save the world every now and again."

"There are things I could think of to do," Scott allowed, taking another sip from the canteen. His lips wrapped around the mouth of the metal sensuously, and Stiles’ mouth went dry as he watched Scott’s throat work, swallowing the water.

A sheep bleating in the background pulled Stiles’ attention away, forcing him to refocus on the situation at hand. He hoped the flush on his face could be attributed to the sun, at least, the heat of the day rather than his blue jeans. The three missing sheep wandered aimlessly in the grassy bottom near the stream, drinking their fill and eating the sparse, still-green grass.

"Uh, Stiles?" Scott asked, eyebrows raised. "How are we supposed to get the sheep back up the ravine?"

Stiles blanched.

"Ahhhh….."

“Do you ever think through an entire plan before you start it?” Scott tilted his head to the side, looking his most doctorly. Stiles wished it wasn’t so beautiful.

“Well, now that you mention it, can’t say I do.” He scruffed a hand over the back of his neck, staring up the side of the cliff face. He could make it back up, maybe, if the rope held and he moved fast - but there was no way he could pull the sheep up by himself, much less Scott, and he wasn’t going to let Scott try to make the climb. “We’ve got enough food for a few days at least. Somebody’ll come lookin’ probably. They usually do.”

"Don’t worry." Scott grinned, and slung his pack off of his back. "Isaac and Derek knew where we were heading. They’ll probably be here in a day or two to get us out."

"Well then," Stiles laughed, digging his nap roll out of his own pack. "Looks like we’re sleeping under the stars tonight."

"Just as we should be," Scott smiled, something in it tinged with feeling that made Stiles hot all over.

"Outside in the heat?" he tried to joke.

"Something like that." Scott sighed as he rifled around, searching for something in the folds of canvas, under the blankets and supplies he kept packed on top.

Stiles knew what he was. He didn’t need to be reminded with every huff of Scott McCall’s hard-earned breath, every twitch of that dear head, every clench of those precious fists. He knew what he was, deep in his bones he knew it, and it didn’t take a genius to see Scott knew too.

Stiles was a coward, yellow bellied as they come, and he’d take it to his grave if he could but he’d never been too good at ignoring Scott. Which, come to think of it, was most of the problem.

“Gonna go find some wood,” Scott said, not even looking his way. “S’gonna get dark soon. We’ll need a fire.”

“Sure thing,” Stiles agreed, watching as the doctor stalked off down the riverbank, searching out fallen branches from the low mesquite trees that lined the ravine. Nearby, a sheep bleated disconsolately.

“You and me both, pardner,” Stiles groaned, unstrapping his bedroll from his pack and looking around for a good spot to set up the tent. It was going to be a long night.

 

The campfire gave off more heat than was really comfortable, but Stiles huddled close to it the same. He didn’t even try to lie to himself about why. Every time they did this - went out into the wild together, no one under the big blue sky but the two of them, it got harder to pretend.

“You gonna eat some of this?” Scott asked, shoving a bowl of beans his direction. Stiles waved him off, chewing on a piece of deer jerky and taking another swallow from his canteen. The sun set brightly on the horizon, washing the desert in brilliant colors.

“S’pretty, ain’t it?” Stiles ventured, nodding toward the painted sky.

“Yep,” Scott nodded, popping the end on his full bottom lip before drawing it into his mouth, between his teeth.

“Scott -” Stiles started, unsure of what to say, how to even start.

“Don’t,” Scott waved him off, shoulders slumping. “Just… just leave it. I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t want you to be _fine_ ,” Stiles muttered, wincing as Scott turned toward his bedroll, back to the fire and Stiles both.

“Well, that makes it easier then. No pretending that way,” Scott agreed, pulling the blanket up over himself without looking back. “Goodnight, Stiles.”

Stiles fell flat on his back, watching the night sky slowly darken overhead. He was a coward, sure, and that he could mostly deal with. He could deal with living in hiding, with keeping his feelings close to the chest, with getting his fill of sidelong glances and stolen touches, love hidden away from the sun.

This, though? Hurting Scott McCall every day of their lives because of his own stupid fear?

He couldn’t deal with this.

“Listen, Doc, we’re not letting the sun set like this.” Stiles pushed himself up and crossed to Scott’s bedroll, yanking the blanket off Scott’s head. “You and me - we need to -”

He stopped short, eyes wide at the tear tracks on Scott’s face.

“We really need to?” Scott asked, voice shaky but shoulders square as he sat up. Even then, with his eyes wet and his full, beautiful mouth pulled into a frown, he was beautiful and brave and everything Stiles had ever wanted.

“Yeah. I really think we need to.”

With aching slowness, Stiles reached out, let his hand caress Scott’s cheek. Scott turned into it, trusting and giving even when all Stiles could do was take.

“I love you, Scott,” Stiles said, as strong as he could make it - the damning words between them in the cooling air. His heart pounded, palms itched, stomach filled with butterflies. He’d said it. Whether the words came back to destroy them both or not, they were free now.

“You… are you... ?” Scott looked dumbfounded, face slack with shock, and Stiles couldn’t help himself - he pulled Scott in by the back of the neck and pressed a chaste kiss to his mouth. Scott’s lips were chapped and dry from the sun and the desert wind, warm and still and slightly open with surprise, and the best thing Stiles had ever touched. He pressed their foreheads together, huffing a laugh at himself - his fear felt far away, out here with Scott under the blaze of the night’s first stars.

“You ain’t kiddin’ me,” Scott said, eyes pressed tightly closed. A tear clung to the dark fan of his eyelashes, made Stiles want to kiss it away, kiss all of them away, every one he’d caused and all the others in between. “Tell me y’ain’t jokin’, Stiles, or by God I’ll -”

“You’ll what, Scotty?” Stiles smiled, nuzzling their noses together. “Cure me to death? Y’couldn’t hurt a fly an’ everyone knows it. S’part a’ what I love about you.”

“Say it again,” Scott demanded, pulling away so he could catch Stiles’ eyes. “Look at my face and tell me again.”

“I’m in love with you, Scott,” Stiles said, trying not to smile and failing. The words tasted sweet on his tongue, like the water from the well on his father’s ranch, or the ripe taste of mid-summer peaches bursting in his mouth. “I been in love with you since we were just kids, and I don’t reckon it’s ever gonna stop. I fought it long enough. I don’t want to fight it anymore.”

Scott stared at him for a beat, two, three, before a laugh bubbled up out of his mouth, painting his whole face with joy. His hands came up hot and rough on the sides of Stiles’ face - everything he wanted, those hands, that smile - and pulled him in. Their lips met, careful and slow, and then desperate and hard, the result of too many campfires gone out in the stillness of their shared desire.

"Together," Scott breathed over Stiles’ mouth. "We should just always be together. Can we just - please, can we -"

"Scotty, I haven’t told you no yet, either."

 

**Author's Note:**

> Your feedback is valuable to all fic writers, and I'm no exception. If you enjoyed this story, please let me know.
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](http://quicklikelight.tumblr.com).


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